


Full Moon Over Central Park

by Arctic_comet



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Murder Mystery, Romance, Werewolf Jonathan Byers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-07 03:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21451402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arctic_comet/pseuds/Arctic_comet
Summary: Nancy's career as an investigative reporter in New York City takes a dangerous turn when she decides to look into the murder of a young woman. The investigation leads her to Jonathan, the victim's next door neighbor, who tries to conceal the truth about himself even as they fall for one another. AU obviously. Written for Day 5 of Jancy Week 2019 (theme: Alternate Universe)
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25
Collections: Jancy Week 2019





	1. Chapter 1

Jonathan found himself lying on the moist soil of the cave he always locked himself into for his transformations. Groaning, he pulled himself up, the pain on his cheek telling him that something had cut into his skin sometime during the previous night. As usual, just about every bone, muscle and joint in his body was complaining.   
  
It always took him a while to recover enough to even dress himself and get home, so he grabbed the blanket he’d been smart enough to bring to the cave, wrapped himself into it and curled up into a fetal position. Just for a little while…

The cawing of a flock of crows woke him up again when the sun was already high in the fall sky. Hell. He’d totally overslept, not that he would be delivering any documents or packages today anyway. He wasn’t sure if he could even get on his bike to ride to the train station to go home. Eventually he forced himself off the ground and pulled a pair of jeans and a sweater on. The air was chilly, but that was just about the least of his problems anyway. 

As he pedaled to the station, he remembered fall days like this that he’d been able to spend at home, with his younger brother and their mom. His mom would make the most delicious hot chocolate before they all burrowed under blankets on the couch, where either Jonathan himself or she would read a book aloud. His brother Will had always preferred adventure novels, but Jonathan liked horror and science fiction. Well, at least he had until horror had become a permanent fixture in his life. 

A bite during a full moon in the woods close to his home. At first he thought it was a stray dog, then he’d determined it had to be a wolf. Fearful of rabies, his mom had taken him to the hospital. He hadn’t contracted rabies, but instead something much, much worse. 

It took him a little over an hour to reach his dingy apartment building in Brooklyn, and when he did, the place was surrounded by police cars and ambulances, all their lights flashing and making his sensitive eyes hurt and his head throb. What had happened? 

Approaching the nearest cop, he was determined to get inside. Shows. Food. Bed. “Excuse me? What’s going on? I live here,” he told the stern middle-aged man, who eyed him warily in response. 

“Can I see some ID?” He asked, and Jonathan reached into his pocket, hoping to God he hadn’t lost it last night. To his immense relief, he managed to locate his driver’s license.

“Here you go.”

The cop scanned the license, his eyes darting between the photo and Jonathan. He smiled nervously, uncertain and tired. 

“One of the apartments is a crime scene. It’s being sealed off as we speak , but you can go home. Someone will be there to talk to you later.”

“Why?” He asked, frowning. He had no desire to talk to anyone.

“We need to talk to all neighbors, to check if someone heard or saw anything suspicious last night.”

“I wasn’t at home last night,” he replied bluntly. Cops made him nervous due to his ‘condition’, as he’d been picked up by a squad car a few times after a transformation before he’d learned to stay away from people until he was truly lucid. 

“Doesn’t matter, kid. We’re going to talk to everyone,” said the cop, handing Jonathan back his license. 

With an acknowledging grunt, he left the officer behind. Lucky for him, the cop was approached by a woman mere seconds after he’d moved on. 

There inside of the building was swarming with cops, too, and he had to dodge at least three of them on his way to his 4th floor apartment. On the landing there were even more cops and the door to his neighbor’s apartment was open. He’d barely seen the woman a handful of times during the time he’d lived there, but a chill still ran through him. Was she dead? 

“Is this your apartment?” Asked a female cop standing guard at the crime scene, motioning to his door.

“Ummm, yeah, it is.”

“Can you please go inside for now? Someone will be in to talk to you soon.”

Yeah. That was exactly what he was afraid of. If his neighbor had been murdered, of course he’d do his best to help out the police, but the thing was… He knew nothing. 

As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, he realized how bad he smelled. Sweat and animal carcasses. Jesus. His sense of smell was still heightened, so the stench nearly made him hurl.

***

“Oh no, no, miss! This is an active crime scene,” growled the uniformed officer. 

Nancy Wheeler nearly rolled her eyes, but managed to stop herself in time. Well, no shit Sherlock, that was why she was there in the first place.

“What happened?” She asked, testing her ballpoint pen on her notepad. 

The cop snorted. “We’re not telling the press anything at this point, so I suggest you scamper.”

“This is a free country and I have every right to be here,” she argued. If she got a dime for every time she was dismissed both in and out of the office, she’d be a rich woman. Listening to police radio had become her biggest hobby since moving to New York, and she often hung around fresh crime scenes, hoping to get the scoop early and actually break something worthwhile. Maybe then Mr. Adrian would at least acknowledge her existence. 

Her hunch told her that they could be dealing with a multiple homicide. This wasn’t a particularly good neighborhood, but not one of the worst ones either. No rich people, but supposedly no gangs either. The scene had gathered quite a crowd, with curious commuters and other people passing by sticking around to stare. Not that there was much to see at this point, nothing nearly enough for Nancy get front page material.

“Besides, you just let that guy in there!” She continued, pointing at the back of the young man who she’d seen talking to the cop minutes before. 

“That guy? He lives there.”

If they were letting tenants in, it probably meant the crime scene was almost sealed off and that most of the police would be clearing out soon. Good. That meant she could go in soon herself, and talk to the neighbors. No doubt the police would be doing that, too, and she didn’t want them catching her doing it. If she got into real trouble with them, they’d end up calling the paper. Not to mention that she was currently supposed to be on her way to a Halloween fair in a small town in Long Island. _ Screw that. _

Biting into her lip as she considered her options, she spied a donut shop across the street. _ Fantastic _. The perfect place to survey the cops, particularly when they left the scene. 

She ordered a cup of coffee and a chocolate-covered donut and chose a window table with a good view of the building on the other side of the street. It turned out that she didn’t have to wait long to get something worth writing about, as a pair of cops stepped in and stood in the queue.

“Man, have you ever seen anything like that before?” Asked the younger officer. 

“Kind of, but that was years ago and when I was stationed in Harlem. Never seen anything this bad around here.”

“Sure makes you lose your appetite.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Finding the second body in the bedroom…”

“I know. Freaked the shit out of me too.”

So at least two people were dead. Nancy’s pen flew on the pad, writing down everything the cops said. She’d come to learn that eavesdropping was one of the most important skills a reporter could have. 

***

Jonathan groaned in desperation when there was yet another knock at his door several hours after he’d shut the door in the last officer’s face and retreated into his bed. He didn’t even bother turning the lights back on to answer the door this time. Why couldn’t these cops leave him the hell alone?

Practically yanking the door open, he expected to come face-to-face with another uniform, but instead there was a girl. Well, she was as much of a girl as he was a boy. She was… Girls like her- or even girls in general- or people- didn’t usually end up on his doorstep. And when he said usually, he actually meant never. She didn’t look like a cop, but there was a determined set to her jaw, making it clear she wanted something from him. And yet she wasn’t saying anything, seeming just as flabbergasted at the sight of him as he was of her. She was lovely, her wavy hair the color of chocolate, her eyes the deepest blue. 

“Hi,” she finally spoke, flashing him a smile that didn’t strike him as genuine. 

“Hi,” he replied. 

“I’m Nancy Wheeler, I work for the NY Daily Courier. I’m here to ask you about the murder-“

“I already told the police everything I know, which is basically nothing,” he said, interrupting her.

“Uh, right. I understand, but please, can I ask you a few questions?” 

Although he wanted little more than to get back under the covers, he found himself unable to deny her simple request. It would be a short talk anyway for sure, as he had so little to contribute.

“Okay,” he sighed, allowing her inside, before realizing how messy his place was. His face probably flashed red as he watched her curious eyes scan his dirty dishes and discarded clothes. He wasn’t even that messy of a person, but when the change approached, it always made him uneasy and somehow that uneasiness manifested itself as him skipping housework. Why did it even matter, though? She was a reporter, here only to do her job.

“I’m Jonathan Byers, in case you want to put that in your notes,” he continued, realizing he hadn’t even introduced himself. His mom would smack him upside the head. 

“Thank you. So, how long have you lived here?” She asked, obviously wanting to get straight into business.

“A couple of years.” The manners taught to him by his mom nagged at the back of his head, insisting that he offer her coffee and perhaps a sandwich. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got coffee, and some sandwiches.”

“Coffee sounds great, actually. How long did your neighbor live in that apartment?”

“I think she moved in a few months after me, so maybe about a year and a half.”

“Did she live alone?”

“I think so, but I can’t be sure… I- I guess I don’t pay that much attention to my neighbors.” And most of the time he hoped they didn’t pay attention to him either. That was why he only spoke to people when he absolutely had to, like at work. 

“Did you ever talk to her? What was she like?”

He shrugged. “I guess I ran into her on the stairs a few times. She seemed normal to me, nothing that would suggest-“ he began, struggling to find the right words. 

“An impending violent death?” She suggested.

He nodded. “Yeah. She never caused trouble here, as far as I know.” He would’ve looked for another place to live if the police had started coming around regularly. 

“Apparently there was a second body in the apartment.”

He raised a brow. “Really?” The police hadn’t told him that.

Nancy nodded.

“How do you even know that?” He wondered aloud, his brows rising in surprise. 

“I can’t reveal my sources, but I heard it from law enforcement.”

Jonathan nodded. _ Impressive. _

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. I wasn’t home last night, only got back this morning when the cops were already here,” he replied, almost apologetically. 

“So you wouldn’t know who was with her last night?”

Jonathan shook his head. “No. Sorry.”

“Well, I’ll keep looking. Sorry to have bothered you,” she said, standing up to leave. He walked her to the door, hoping that despite his haggard appearance and the state of his apartment, she wouldn’t remember him in a bad way. That was new, since usually he settled on hoping people wouldn’t remember him at all. Reporters were at least as dangerous to him as cops were, so wanting her not to forget about him had to be a sign of him losing his mind. 

“You- you didn’t bother me. Good luck with your story.”

“Thank you… Would you mind giving me your number, in case I think of another question you might be able to answer for me?” She asked.

That was a surprising request, but he recited his phone number to her automatically, although the only other people who even knew it were his current and potential employers. 

He watched as she turned the corner and began her descent. Just before he closed the door, he heard her knock on a door on the floor below him and introduce herself once more. He bet she’d already forgotten his name. He’d just be the clueless nextdoor neighbor of a murder victim, who she never had to see again.

***

Even as Nancy listened to the old lady prattle on and on about how wonderful and polite the murdered woman had been, her thoughts were elsewhere. She still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Jonathan Byers, nextdoor neighbor. He’d claimed to not have been home during the murders and she believed him, but something about him nagged at the back of her mind. The deep dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he seemed to be mostly skin and bones should’ve led to the conclusion that she’d just spoken to a drug addict. But this wasn’t that kind of a neighborhood, and he didn’t… He didn’t seem like an addict. Although how in the world could she know that? 

Either way, he’d struck a chord within her, which was unusual. As much as she would’ve liked to think it was only her reporter’s instincts sensing that something was off about him, she had to admit her desire to know more about him wasn’t only about that. Nevertheless, she had to focus on finding out all she could about the murder case, and unfortunately Jonathan didn’t seem to be able to help her with that. 

“What about Alaina Torres’s neighbor, Jonathan Byers? What do you know about him?” She asked in a whim before considering whether it was a good idea.

The old woman blinked at her, obviously confused as to why she’d want to know about Jonathan.

“Well, he’s a quiet boy, that one. Carried my groceries up the stairs once when I sprained my ankle, but I don’t believe he speaks much with anyone here.”

“Does he ever have guests?”

“I haven’t seen anyone. Why are you asking about him, do you think he may have had something to do with poor Alaina’s death?”

“Uh, not really, at this stage I’m trying to get a feel of the people who lived close to her,” she claimed, feeling embarrassed about lying. 

“Surely he can’t be a bad guy.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Mrs. Johnson,” she replied, flashing a smile. 

Her phone rang, filling the apartment with its shrill sound. _ Shit. _She should’ve muted it.

“Are you going to answer that?” Inquired Mrs. Johnson.

“Yeah. Uh, please excuse me for a minute.” Removing the phone from her purse as if it was a dangerous insect, she brought it to her ear. 

As usual, her boss didn’t bother with the basic niceties. “Where are you?” He demanded.

Biting into her lip, Nancy rolled her eyes. “I’m in Long Island at the Halloween fair you sent me to. Should be ready to come back to the office within an hour.”

“Well, get back here as soon as you can. I’ve got another job for you.” 

_ Really? _Over the last few months, her naivety had dissipated little by little with every filler story she was asked to write. And yet she still held onto hope that one day she’d be given a chance to make her mark, to be the top journalist she aspired to be.

“What is it?”

“An adoption event for a local shelter in Queens.”

Nancy liked animals, she truly did, but this was yet another feel-good story gig. Nothing serious. Wat was even worse that this meant she’d be stuck in Queens until tonight, which meant having to give up on this case for now.

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised Mr. Adrian.

“Oh, that sounded exciting!” Exclaimed Mrs. Johnson. If she only knew… 

Responding with a tight smile, she explained to Mrs. Johnson that she had to leave. 

As she exited the building, she couldn’t help but turn to direct one last glance at Jonathan’s window. She could swear she saw the curtains move.


	2. Chapter 2

Jonathan’s day began at 5:30 AM, when he woke up, dressed and had a hasty breakfast before getting on his bike. His newest job as bike messenger wasn’t his favorite, but he took any job he could find. Eventually having to miss a few days around the full moon usually became an issue for his employers, leaving him unemployed again. 

With a sigh he took in the state of his fridge. There was barely anything inside, and the state of the cupboards wasn’t much better. He at his last banana for breakfast, accepting that he wouldn’t be having lunch that day. It wasn’t an entirely new reality for him, but it always sucked. Biking around town drained him of all his energy, leaving him hungry. At least it wasn’t anywhere near another change, because that always made things infinitely worse. A few times he’d eaten rats while transformed, and he hated the aftertaste they had left in his mouth the next morning. It took him three round last of tooth-brushing to rid himself of the acrid taste. It also made him feel even more like a monster, like a savage. _ Which he was. A cursed savage. _

Gathering his first deliveries of the day, he built up a mental list of his destinations. The first one was an ad agency on East 45th street, and the second one was the office of a newspaper. The name of the newspaper made Jonathan do a double-take. It was familiar, he’d heard it before. _ Dark, curly hair. Big blue eyes. Asking questions about his murdered neighbor. Nancy Wheeler of the NY Daily Courier. _

A warm weight landed in his stomach. He hadn’t seen her since that day. The envelope he was delivering wasn’t addressed to her, but maybe… He shook his head. _ Maybe what? Maybe he’d get a glimpse of her, even say hi. _ He was being ridiculous, but then again, he didn’t talk to people much. Human contacts were dangerous, and he had to keep reminding himself of that inconvenient little fact. Meeting a smart, cute girl didn’t change who or what he was. _ Yes. _ He was going to make the delivery and head to the next destination. There would be no looking around for Nancy Wheeler. _ What would he have to say to a girl like that anyway? Nothing. _

Steeling himself against the cool air in his thin jacket, he hopped on his bike and started his workday. 

***

Nancy’s planned schedule for the day consisted of a trek to Bryant Park and an interview in Meatpacking District. _ All boring. _It was unlikely that any of her work would end up in the actual paper. What she needed was something truly worth printing. For the last ten days she’d been using her spare time to gain more intel on the murder of Alaina Torres, but no dice so far. 

The police was too quiet about the details for it to be normal. The case consumed her nights as well, keeping her awake. It wasn’t only the brutal death of a seemingly ordinary woman, but the man she’d met that first day. _ Jonathan. Ugh. _Getting fixated on some guy- a potential witness at that- was stupid. She was more professional than that. Grabbing her bag to head to the office for the day, she made a mental note to visit another bar with plenty of NYPD regulars, if not that night, then within the next couple of days. Maybe even talk to some of them. For now, she’d focus on a charity concert for sick kids in Bryant Park. 

It was business as usual as Nancy got out of the elevator on the 10th floor. Secretaries buzzing from one cubicle to the next, half of her colleagues talking on their phones. Marcy at the reception desk, a messenger taking her signature. She stopped in her tracks to stare at the messenger’s profile. _ Could it be? _

“Jonathan?” She called out.

He turned, and it _ really _was him. “Oh. Hi,” he said shyly, taking his papers back from Marcy.

“Are you done here?” She asked as he came over to her.

“Yeah. Weird coincidence, isn’t it?” 

“I’ve seen stranger things. Now that you’re here, I was wondering if I could talk to you again… About your neighbor.”

He frowned. “Ummm, I’d love to help out, but I’ve got to deliver the rest of these,” he replied, nodding at his bag. 

“Oh, I have someplace to be, too, but how about lunch? I’ll buy.”

“Wow. You don’t have to, but okay, sure. I can meet you for lunch. Where?”

“I know a decent place close to Bryant Park. That’s where I need to go now, so can you meet me there at 12:30? 

“Sure. See you there!”

“See you.” 

As soon as she reached her own cubicle, she sank down into the chair and banged her head on the desk. She didn’t know what she could get out of Jonathan or exactly how she could use his help to find out more about the murder. And yet she now had a lunch date with him. _ How desperate. _ She liked to plan ahead, but now she had no idea what to do, aside from her job. _ Improvise. Breathe. _

***

Funnily enough, Nancy found inspiration in her surroundings that morning as she realized how much people living in central places could see. If something nefarious was going on with Ms. Torres’s murder, what could be a better place than her neighbor’s apartment to keep an eye and ear out for for any suspicious developments? Some killers had a tendency to return to the site of the crime, didn’t they? She could hope this was one of those cases. _ And… Well, if she found out a few things about Jonathan himself by using his apartment, it would only be like hitting two birds with one stone. _

Nevertheless, considering the suggestion she was planning on making to Jonathan, it made her nervous. Granted she barely knew the guy, he seemed rather private. Still, this seemed like a good avenue to get her out of the dead end she was currently in with the case. And her entire career, as it was.

Jonathan was punctual, but he was panting as he got off his bike.

“Sorry,” he said.

She shot him a teasing look. “You’re not even late.”

“So… What did you want to ask me?” 

“Let’s get some food first, I can hardly think when I’m hungry,” she joked. 

She led Jonathan to the affordable Italian restaurant she sometimes had lunch at. He’d stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked wholly uncomfortable as they were shown to a table and given menus. 

“What are you having?” She asked, hoping to ease the tension. _ Why did he seem to anxious anyway? _

“Ummm…” He was still perusing the menu.

“Sorry. Take your time, I’m just used to ordering and eating as fast as I can.”

“No, it’s… You really don’t have to buy me lunch.”

“I need your help, so buying you one lunch is hardly a big deal.”

“I’ll have a grilled chicken sandwich, then.”

She raised her brows at him. He did physical work and yet insisted he’d manage with one measly sandwich for lunch. After she’d heard his stomach growl in the street, she would beg to differ. “When’s the last time you ate properly?” She asked.

He tore his eyes from her face and even stood up. He was going to leave because of her stupid prying. 

“Oh no, please don’t go! I’m sorry I asked. I just… You seem hungry. I can afford to buy you a big plate of pasta or even a steak or whatever you want here.”

Jonathan eyed her, his eyes careful, doubting.

“Okay. I’ll have pasta bolognese.”

She smiled back at him. “Good choice.”

As their food arrived, Nancy took the time to observe him. At first he still pretended that he wasn’t totally ravenous, which she found totally heartbreaking but at the same time it tickled her senses as a journalist. _ What was Jonathan’s story? _He seemed like such a smart guy that she had to wonder why wasn’t doing something more challenging than working as a bike messenger. She knew what it was like to exist on 99-cent instant noodles too, but his plight seemed to be more deeply woven into his personality.

When he got going, he ate like a wolf and she didn’t dare interrupt him. 

She watched him too intently to eat her own lunch, so the Caesar salad was left nearly untouched.

“Sorry, but are you going to eat that?” He asked sheepishly, motioning at her plate.

She shook her head. “I don’t have much of an appetite. You’re welcome to help yourself to it,” she offered.

“You’re sure?” 

“Yeah, absolutely. How long have you worked as a bike messenger?”

His eyes darted to her, suspicious. Okay, so clearly he really didn’t like to be asked questions about himself. 

“A couple of months now,” he eventually murmured.

“What did you do before that?”

“Sorry, but what does this have to do with what happened to my neighbor?” He asked tensely.

Nancy pursed her lips and sighed. “I was just making small talk.”

“I’m not much of a small talk guy.”

“Mmmm… I can tell.”

“It’s not your fault though, I’m sorry. I’m not that grumpy,” he said, shaking his head apologetically. 

“It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me about yourself, Jonathan. I get it. It happens to me a lot, guess it’s one of the downsides of being a journalist. I’m nosy.”

He offered her that wan, small smile of his that she’d already grown to find so endearing. “You’re _ curious. _Which is what reporters should be. As for your question, I’ve been doing this and that. Taxi driver, store clerk, waiter, janitor, you name it.”

“You like change then?” Which seemed like an odd idea to her as he seemed to possess such a stable personality.

“No. Not really. I-“ he interrupted himself, clearly considering if continuing the sentence was a good idea. _ Trust. _He was assessing if she was trustworthy. Waiting, Nancy held her breath. 

“I have a medical condition that makes it hard for me to work sometimes. I miss shifts, and employers don’t like that,” he finally said quietly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she replied, not knowing what else to say in order not to sound like a total tool. Most of the things she knew about hardship like his were from articles she’d proofread for more senior journalists at the paper. It made her feel uneducated, and she hated the feeling. However, if anything, she was eager to learn. 

“Are you going to tell me what you wanted to talk about?” He asked again.

_ Right. Get to the point, Nancy. _

“I want to keep tabs on your neighbor’s apartment. You know, in case the murderer returns to the scene,” she explained, shrugging.

His eyes widened. “Don’t you think the police are already doing that?”

“Sure, they could be, but it’s not like they’re telling me anything.”

“Why do you need me for this?”

“Well, I’d like to use your apartment as a base, to begin with.”

It probably wasn’t a good sign that Jonathan’s fork had stopped halfway between his plate and his mouth. 

“To begin with?”

“I’d also appreciate it if you could keep an eye on the place, who may come or go, when I’m not there.”

Clearing his throat, he glared at her. “I don’t spend a lot of time at home.”

“Does that mean you’re saying no?”

He sighed, apparently giving up on his lunch as he threw the fork on the plate and leaned back in his chair.

“How often would you be there?”

“Every day for a while, if I possibly can.”

“You really want this scoop, don’t you?” He murmured.

“Yeah, I do,” she admitted. “You don’t know what it’s like to be overlooked every single day at work only because you’re a young woman. When all your best ideas are stolen by men who don’t work half as hard as you do but make at least three times as much as you do,” she continued, more quietly this time. That _ was _her reality, but now that she had an inkling of what he went through daily, her speech had come out a little halfhearted.

“You’re right, I don’t. You can use my apartment,” he said. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I- I don’t often get a chance to help people.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me,” she answered, touching Jonathan’s arm briefly. _ Woah. _He practically jumped into the air at the touch, startling her. It would be wise to keep her hands to herself in the future. 

“Will you be home after eight o’clock tonight?”

“Yeah, I should make it back by then.”

“All right. I’ll come by then and we can work out the details.”

“Sounds good. I- I need to get back to work now, but thanks for the lunch,” he replied, and this time he really left her there, striding to the door as fast as he could. As if he was dying to get away from her. 

***

He spent the rest of the day replaying the lunch meeting in his head. How he’d looked like a complete idiot. How he’d given into her request and was now facing the reality of having to allow her into his carefully guarded apartment on a regular basis. And she _ was _ curious. As long as the object of her curiosity was merely his dead neighbor, he was safe. _ But she was also so damned smart that she could start digging into his life. _Especially when he told her to stay away for a while close to the full moon. It wouldn’t take more than a few months for her to figure out the suspicious timings. He could hope the case would be solved by then and Nancy would be out of his life with the scoop of her dreams. 

It was true that he didn’t often get an opportunity to help people, but ever since he’d come into the city, self preservation had been his first priority. He was breaking his own rules. _ Was it because she’d acted as if she was interested in his life? That was what she probably did with everyone she wanted something from. _

The hallway of his building was dark when he climbed the stairs. The fuse must’ve blown. It was only when he reached his floor that he smelled it, coming out of Ms. Torres’s apartment. The scent made the hairs on his arms stand up. He’d never met another werewolf, as far as he was aware of, but that’s what the familiar and revolting scene had to be. _ What were they doing in his dead neighbor’s apartment? _ She’d died on the night of the full moon. _ Had those guys killed her and the other victim while transformed? _

Any responsible werewolf would lock themselves away from everyone else for the duration of the change. So unless there had been a terrible accident, these people had used their curse as a weapon. The idea of evil werewolves didn’t seem wrong to him, but using his affliction in that way had never even crossed his mind. The thought was too horrible to consider. Also, if it had happened once, who was there to say it couldn’t happen again? How could you put a stop to people transforming into werewolves at full moon and murdering people? Nobody in NYPD would believe him if he came in and started talking about lycanthropes. They’d probably have him committed.

Swallowing, Jonathan took deep breaths to keep his cool as he went inside his own apartment. There was no way he could let Nancy dig into this. The only problem was having to explain it to her. She didn’t strike him as someone who’d listen to flimsy excuses and who’d be easily duped. But he still couldn’t let her put herself in danger. _ Or potentially find out his secret. _He didn’t know her, but she was innocent. Now that he knew werewolves were involved, he couldn’t let anything happen to her. She’d have no idea what she was up against. What kind of person would he be if he let her get herself killed for a scoop when she didn’t know what she was getting into?

***

Nancy knocked on his door that night as scheduled. 

“Hey,” she greeted, pushing herself inside with a bag full of writing supplies and snacks.

“Hi. Look, I don’t think this is a good idea after all.”

“What exactly isn’t a good idea?”

“You using my place to find out more.”

“Why? You just told me earlier today that you were okay with it.”

“Someone was in that apartment tonight, Nancy. They even went through the trouble of turning the lights off in the stairwell.”

Her eyes widened, but with excitement rather than fear. _ He should’ve kept his mouth shut. _

“Are you joking? That’s amazing! Tell me everything,” she ordered, opening a notebook. 

“That’s really all I know, I swear. But I don’t want to be involved in this, let the police-“

“I didn’t think you were a coward,” she spat, making him flinch. That _ hurt. Hell, he was only trying to protect her. _ Not that he wanted to have anything to do with murderous fellow werewolves either, but he could take care of himself, and he had nowhere else to go. Nancy didn’t have to get involved. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed back at her. 

“All I know is that you promised to help me but then saw something and went back on your word! What am I supposed to think? Did someone come by and threaten you?” She asked, her eyes narrowing.

Jonathan shook his head. _ How impossible could she be? _“No, absolutely not.”

“Well, whatever the reason is, you don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m going to keep working on this story no matter what you say. If you don’t help me, I’ll find someone who will. Last chance, Jonathan: are you in or out?”

His heart thudded in his chest. _ One. Two. Three. Four. _

“Fine.”

“You’ll help?”

“Yeah.” _ God help him. _


	3. Chapter 3

Jonathan watched Nancy pace around his apartment with slight amusement. She was _ so _ focused, and his observation of the unauthorized visitors to his murdered neighbor’s apartment a few weeks ago had only served to harden her resolve to get her big story. He hadn’t heard or seen anyone else enter or leave the apartment aside from the police since then, though, so it looked like they were out of leads. Shaking his head, he corrected himself. _She_ was out of leads.

“Everything’s a dead end, Jonathan,” she sighed, ripping another page from her notebook, as if reading his mind. 

“You didn’t get anything out of her ex boyfriend?”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “That guy wouldn’t even talk to me, said he’d already talked to the police at least half a dozen times.”

“They always suspect the boyfriend or husband, don't they?”

“Well, he mentioned he hadn’t seen her for three months before she was killed. I have literally _nothing_ to go on.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help much. At all, really.”

Stopping, she turned to him. “No, I appreciate what you’ve done. I should start getting out of your hair, really…”

“I don’t mind,” he told her. And he didn’t, but he understood her. Eventually she’d have to move onto the next potential scoop and distance herself from this unsolved murder case. That would include no longer seeing him. Somehow he'd grown used to her presence in his small apartment and found himself unwilling to give it up. Loneliness was a necessity in his situation, after all.

She smiled at him, the expression lighting up her blue eyes. Those eyes of hers did strange things in his gut, made him wish he was normal. 

“In that case there’s still one thing I’d like to try.”

“What is it?” He asked.

“Searching the apartment.”

As Jonathan’s eyes widened, his daydream faded. “You’re suggesting we break into an apartment that was sealed off by the police?”

“It’s not sealed off _ anymore, _” she corrected him. 

“Which is why a new tenant could move in any day now.”

“Which is why I’m sure you’d tell me if you knew that had already happened.”

“I would.”

“Fantastic. I can go on my own if you don’t want to come, but I could really use someone to make sure nobody else comes in while I’m there.”

Groaning internally, he already knew he was going to be by her side as she entered Alaina’s apartment. Especially for the unlikely chance that the werewolves who had probably killed her returned. _If they did, what could he do? _All he knew was that he had to protect Nancy, who had no idea of the danger.

“Do you know how to get in?” He asked her, not about to admit that he’d broken into unoccupied cabins a few times just to get food after a taxing transformation. He didn't enjoy thinking of himself as a criminal, but that was what he was. 

“I’ll pick the lock,” she said, shrugging. 

He smiled. “Do I want to know why you can pick locks?” 

She considered his question. “Probably not, but I can tell you it’s not as bad as you think.”

“If you really do want to know, the truth is that my little brother and his friends taught me when I first started getting into investigative journalism,” she confessed.

That actually sounded like something he could’ve done with Will, too. _What was Will up to now? Had their mom been able to send him to college? _She would've done everything in her power to make it work, that was for sure.

“I guess it can come in handy,” he replied, laughing. He was also acutely aware that while she'd offered him another nugget of her past, he was unable to return the favor. 

“Oh, you have no idea of the things that can come in handy for reporters like me,” she mused, winking at him.

As much as he admired her resolve, he wondered how much of this friendship of their was real on her end, if it all of it was only a means to an end as far as she was concerned. 

***

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he grumbled, barely half an hour later, following her into Alaina’s bedroom. There was still a faint smell of blood and werewolf in the air, both of which made him feel queasy. Make it _werewolves_, actually. There had been two in the apartment. Both male, based on the scents. It was disturbing to have this knowledge, especially when he had no idea where it came from. Even after years of having this curse, he still had a lot to learn, but nobody to ask. 

”Well, we’re here already, so help me look around. The sooner we do it, the sooner we can leave,” she replied, ignoring his protests. Which he’d come to learn was typical of her. 

He’d told the police as much as he could about the intruders without rousing their suspicions, but he wasn’t convinced that New York’s finest didn’t view _him_ as a potential suspect. The cops had searched the place again soon after he’d talked to them, so he had to wonder if their breaking and entering would lead to anything at all, but Nancy was right. They were already in, so there wasn’t anything to lose. 

“Shit, they took everything,” she cursed, opening all the drawers and coming up with a whole lot of nothing.

“I wonder what the guys who came here took,” he said out loud. _ Had the other werewolves left behind some evidence they wanted to get rid of? And if they had, had they found it? _

Nancy groaned. “There could be a way to find out.”

“There is? Why the groan then?” He wondered.

“I don’t like going to that bar.”

“Bar?”

“There are certain places that cops like to wind down after a hard day’s work.”

“Oh. And that’s how you get your scoops?”

“That’s how I _ try _to get my scoops,” she corrected, frustration evident in her voice.

“Right, Sorry,” he said, as he peered under the queen sized bed. There were no sheets on it, and he had to assume they had been taken in as evidence. And yet they’d left the bed… His examination of the underside of the bed revealed scratch marks that _ could _have belonged to a large dog, or… 

“What did you find?” Asked Nancy, her head appearing beside his. 

“It’s probably nothing,” he tried helplessly.

“The marks? But your neighbor didn’t have a dog, did she?”

“No, not as far as I know, but maybe she used to have one. Or maybe the bed used to belong to someone who did.”

“Or maybe the police are hiding the fact that she was mauled to death by a large canine.”

Under different circumstances he’d be much less scared and more impressed than he could now afford to be. 

“We don’t know that.”

“Which is why I have to go to that bar. They’ve been unusually tight lipped about this case so far.”

Jonathan hesitated. He didn’t know exactly what she was planning to do to get that information, but he felt compelled to join her. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asked, hoping she'd say yes despite his aversion to bars in general. They were noisy and smelly places that wreaked havoc on his senses, especially this close to the full moon. 

“No, you can’t… It would…” she shook her head. “It’s not a good idea. But I appreciate the offer.”

Right at that very moment, he wished he knew more about werewolves, but he’d never even met another one. As things stood now, all he knew came from books and his own experiences. Maybe… Maybe there could still be something he could do to help her, even if he couldn’t tell her the truth. If Nancy was forcing herself to do something unpleasant, then he’d make the time to head to the library and read more about… Well, _ his kind. _If there was anything that could be used to catch the ones that had killed his neighbor, he’d damned well find it. 

When he returned home alone later, the answering machine was blinking. His stomach sunk at the sight, because he already knew what it had to be about. Grimacing, he played the message. It was best to get it over with.

_ “Hi, Jonathan, it’s me, Brett. Look, you’ve done a good job with us, but as you have to realize, your absences are a problem, a huge one in fact. I’m sorry, but we can’t keep employing you anymore. We need people who can be relied on.” _

There would be no more letters or packages for him to deliver, and no money to pay for the rent of this place, unless he could find something else and fast. Usually he had another job already well thought out and lined up when the last one ended, but lately he’d been distracted… Mostly by a beautiful brunette. And now he was two weeks away from becoming homeless. The prospect in itself was scary to him, despite it not being an entirely new occurrence, but now he also worried about what he was going to tell Nancy. _Should he claim he was moving and they had no reason to see each other anymore? Should he just disappear? _Sinking onto his bed, he decided that he still had time to figure out what to do about telling her. In the meantime he'd pretend nothing had changed.

***

After reaching the conclusion that there was little to be done about the case unless she convinced a cop to tip her off, Nancy shouldn't have had any business hanging out with Jonathan after work. Yet she went there every day, each time deciding that it would be the last time until she had new intel on the murder. They'd talked about the discovery of the claw marks in Alaina's apartment, but Jonathan had little desire to discuss it with her, which was a disappointment. It also made her even more certain that he was hiding something. _What if he had something to do with the murder after all? How would she deal with that? _If he only trusted her enough to tell her the truth. She would always deal with the truth, no matter what it was. It was the secrets and lies she couldn't stand, especially from a friend. Direct confrontation was pretty much her hallmark, so she prodded him.

“What about your family?” She asked.

His eyes widening, Jonathan choked on his sandwich. “What- what about them?”

Nancy shrugged, faking nonchalance despite the hammering of her heart. “Do you see them often?”

He fiddled on the wrapper of the sandwich to buy time as if he wondered what to say. _Would he lie to her?_

“No, not really. I haven’t seen them since I moved here, actually.” She nodded, believing him. _But why was he estranged from his family?_

“Wow. It’s been years then, right?”

“Yeah. It’s been even longer since I saw my dad. He left when I was in elementary school, and I don't really want to see him again.”

“Your mom must call you often.”

Sighing, he nodded. She could tell it was a lie, and felt offended. Even her innocent questions were too much for him to answer truthfully. _How could she ever trust him in return?_

“My mom used to call me every night. She’s sort of started to let go recently, though,” she mused, taking a swig of her coke, pretending she wasn't upset.

“Do you see your family often?” He asked.

“I go home a couple of times a year," she replied. Her family wasn't a particularly close one, but even so, she didn't mind talking about them. "My parents have never had the greatest relationship, so I wish they'd broken up, like yours. Sometimes it's better for everyone," she argued.

"That was definitely the case with my parents," he said, nodding.

***

As he replied her, Jonathan allowed himself to think what it would be like to be able to go home, even if it was only a couple of times a year. He’d know what his brother was up to these days, if his mom was still alone. Nevertheless, he couldn’t spare himself too much time to focus on these thoughts, as they revealed the lump in his gut. _ Guilt. _Even though his logical side knew he’d done the right thing by leaving, sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder how bad it had been for his family. At first, at least. They had to be long over him by now, used to the new normal in which he didn't exist. 

“That sounds nice,” he finally said. 

“Where did you just go? In your head, I mean.” Nancy's eyes were narrowed in suspicion. 

Shaking his head, he got to his feet. “Nowhere, got distracted for a minute.”

Nancy didn’t look convinced, but that was all he was going to give her. The more he talked to her, the more guilty all the lying and secrecy made him feel. She deserved better from a friend. _ Who occasionally wanted to touch her in ways that friends didn’t. _She made him feel hungry, yearn for things he hadn’t thought were possible in years. Things he didn’t know shit about.

As he watched her purse her lips defiantly, his stomach fell. She thought he didn’t trust her, which meant she probably didn't deem him trustworthy either.

“I should get home… Let me know if anything happens.”

“Will do, just as we agreed.”

“I might not be able to come back tomorrow, or the day after,” she said, buttoning up her coat. 

“Okay.” He felt the loneliness more acutely than in a long time, but he buried the emotion, as usual. Yet he believed she’d come back eventually, as long as she felt there was more for her to gain by keeping tabs on Alaina’s apartment. 

***

Nancy was still grumbling to herself when she reached her apartment. _ Why couldn’t she focus on the case and getting her scoop instead of wasting energy wondering what the guy she was drawn to was hiding? _

At times she was convinced it had to be a criminal past, but how? The Jonathan she knew wasn’t anything like that. However, she’d known the guy for less than two months, which was a fact she often had to remind herself of. How much could you truly learn about a person in that time when they dodged most of the questions you tried to pose them? All she knew was how she felt around him. _ Like home. _Not in the way she had back in her childhood home, but in a more real way. It was new and scary and exciting at the same time. 

Whatever it was, she was going to shelf it for a while. It was time to focus on the case and venture out. In two days she was going to find out exactly what the police knew about Alaina’s murder. The claw marks under her bed made her skin crawl in a way she’d never experienced before. It was hard to believe they’d been made by a regular dog, but what was the alternative? That she was dealing with a woman who had been killed by genetically engineered wolves? Or werewolves? Scoffing, she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. _ God, this was ridiculous. _And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something supernatural had a hand in the murder. It would certainly explain why the police was keeping mum on the details, it was possible they didn’t know much more than she did, and even if they did, they didn’t believe what the evidence was telling them. 

None of the options would fly with her bosses at the paper. What she needed was cold, hard evidence, not ingredients for a mediocre horror movie. She had learned to keep her craziest theories to herself long ago, as reporters who believed in conspiracy theories or being that couldn't possibly exist didn't exactly garner a lot of respect, even less if they also happened to be young women. 

***

Friday afternoon passed by, and Nancy was back in her apartment by 6 PM. It felt strange not to head over to Jonathan’s, but getting ready for the night was the most beneficial thing she could do, even if she’d prefer to sit at his kitchen table with a can of soda and a half-finished burger by her side while Jonathan himself obviously tried to make sense of her handwritten notes, posing a question every once in a while.

“You’re not very organized,” he’d mumbled once, reaching for one paper at a time and struggling to put them in order. 

“They’re all perfectly organized in my head” she’d told him. It was true that thoughts were often jumbled, which tended to leak into her notes. There were too many thoughts to keep track of.

Pushing him out of her head, she opened her closet to grab the nicest black dress she owned. It was guaranteed to capture the attention of most men, which was effective when you wanted to milk them for information instead of eavesdrop. _ What would Jonathan think about her in this dress? _Ugh, she had no reason to be wondering such things. She could see why a lot of women would feel confident and even sexy in the dress with its low cut neckline and form fitting fabric, but Nancy herself mostly felt awkward while wearing it. It made her extremely self aware. Over time she’d come to associate the feelings with the purpose she used the dress for. Perhaps it’d be different to use it on a date with someone she liked and who she wanted to impress only because of that. Maybe at first Jonathan had been just another guy she needed to like her to get ahead in her career, but that wasn’t true anymore, whether she liked it or not. That probably explained why her stomach churned even more than it usually did as she did her makeup for the night.

She could always go and see him after getting the information, but she still wasn’t sure if she wanted him to see her looking like this. It didn’t hurt her conscience to pretend to be someone she wasn’t around the cops, but she didn’t want Jonathan to think this was _ her. _

***

As someone half intentionally shoved Nancy to the side for about the 100th time, she cursed under her breath. The bar was filled to the brim with people from all walks of life, but so far she hadn’t spotted any cops, and trying to weave around the drunks in her heels was really starting to irk her. She was there to gather intel, not to be hit on by men who could barely stand on their own two feet and who smelled like they’d been in avoiding the shower for approximately the last week. 

It was a Friday night, so the place was even more crowded and noisier than usual. Her own impatience was starting to drive her insane. Jonathan had promised to keep an eye for anything unusual, but she would’ve rather been in his apartment and doing it herself. She hardly felt like herself in the little black dress and heavy makeup she had on.

Then, just when she was starting to think it’d be best to call it a night, she hit the jackpot. Officers… The names escaped her mind for a while before returning. Ramirez and Black. The two familiar men were seated side-by-side at the bar, both nursing large beers.

Sidling you’re to them, she forced on the largest fake smile she could muster. “Well, good evening, boys. Remember me?”

She felt the men’s gaze her choice of attire, Officer Black’s gaze settling on her breasts, his blue eyes hungry. _ What a tool. _

“How are things at the paper, Miss Wheeler?” Asked Ramirez.

“I could really use a good story or two. So if you boys have any nuggets to give me, I’d be indebted to you forever,” she swore, making sure to throw in a giggle or two into her request. It was surprising how many men liked it when you pretended to be a bit of an airhead and how much more useful they were when they thought they were talking to someone dumber than them.

“Have a seat, Missy,” commanded Black, moving aside to allow her to sit between them. She’d barely managed to lay her purse on the counter before the man’s large hand found her thigh, squeezing her leg as she tried not to shiver in disgust.

_ Breathe. Breathe. _If she played her cards right, she’d be in Jonathan’s apartment within the next hour or two. She’d bring some snacks on the way and the two of them would analyze whatever it was that she got out of this sleazebag and his dim-witted friend.

"What have you got for me?" She asked, getting straight to the point. Not the most subtle of ways, perhaps, but she didn't have the patience for more tonight.

"How about some details of the robbery in Times Square?" Suggested Black, still not removing his hand from her leg.

"Boring. A reporter needs a bit more excitement than that," she quipped. Besides, the robbery was basically solved already and she'd happened to overhear at the office that they'd arrested a trio of suspects earlier that day. Black was trying to dupe her.

"Hey, Alan, how about that murdered woman in-" Started Officer Ramirez, only to be silenced by his friend.

"Oh, that's way too much for such a pretty girl to deal with," laughed Black.

"No, it's really not. Go on," she encouraged the other officer, who was fortunately more focused on his beer than her.

"A woman was killed by animals , the medical examiner thinks it was a pack of wolves, but that's fucking impossible. Can you imagine that, a pack of wolves in New York City?"

"That does sound unbelievable."

"That's because it is!" Shouted Black. "She was probably killed by a pack of dogs that the ex boyfriend had borrowed from a friend. It's a run-of-the-mill case aside from the gory details."

"I don't know, man," spoke Ramirez. "Maybe she got involved with the wrong crowd."

"A crowd that can turn into animals? Or do you suddenly believe in werewolves now, Joe?"

Nancy stayed quiet, listening to the two men go back and forth for a while. There was no reason to interrupt them now that she was finally getting good stuff on the tape that was recording in her purse. 

***

The effects of the upcoming change were starting to take their toll on him again. He was worn out, mostly unable to sleep, and craved raw meat. Yet he hadn’t been able to come up with an excuse to tell Nancy to stay away from his place at least for the next week, so he dragged himself from bed to open the door to her that Friday night. Faintly, he recalled that she'd told him she wouldn't be coming that night, but he caught her scent even as she was still standing behind the closed door.

The sight of her made his stomach flip, and he probably looked stupid as hell, blinking at her like a moron. She was wearing a short, black dress that showed her curves in ways that made his mind go blank. Yet he also noted her smell. She smelled like cigarette smoke, alcohol and male sweat, the last of which made him irrationally angry. There was no way this jealousy of his was healthy. Extreme mood swings were normal for him so close to the full moon, so he calmed himself as best as he could, thinking of a book on forests he’d recently borrowed from the library. Neutral facts pertaining to trees, moss and shrubs would have the effect he so desired. 

“What’s going on?” He asked her, swallowing as he tried to curb his emotions, not wanting to look distracted. If he lost control, he’d seem like a total lunatic. Which, all things considered, he was. 

“Can you let me in? I went to a bar that the local police frequents, and got us some new information.”

Moving aside, he allowed her to slip past him as he struggled to ignore the way the dress revealed so much creamy white skin. 

Nancy took a seat at his tiny kitchen table, which was already occupied by her notes on the case. He wasn’t entirely sure at which point she’d taken on the habit of leaving her notebooks and folders as well as dozens of sheets of paper at his place, but he hadn’t told her to get rid of them, either, and always tried not to spill food on anything. 

“You look sick,” she noted, staring at him with a frown.

Immediately, he wrapped his arms around himself. “I guess I could be coming down with something,” he replied nonchalantly. And there it was. The perfect excuse to tell her not to show up again until he was well over the upcoming change. At which point he would be days from getting kicked out of this place. “You should probably leave,” he suggested.

Swatting a hand in his direction, she made no move to remove herself from his apartment. “I just came here, and since I’m here now, you can rest while I work. I can bring you food, too.”

The offer moved something inside of him, as if a ray of light had made its way into a dark cave only used to the darkness, and yet he knew he couldn’t possibly accept it. 

“It’s… It’s fine, really. I’ll manage on my own.”

It was his refusal that made her leap out of the chair. Walking over to him, she extended a hand, placing it on his forehead. Almost reflexively his fingers closed around her wrist.

“You’re burning up,” she murmured, meeting his eyes. 

“You have to leave,” he told her, loosening his grip to make sure he didn’t hurt her.

“Is this what you were talking about when you said you had a condition that made it hard for you to keep a job?”

He swallowed before nodding. “Yes,” he replied hoarsely.

“What is it?”

“You said it didn’t matter, that it was my business.”

“You’re throwing me out of your apartment and I’d like to know why,” she hissed back. Her temper was flaring, which was a good thing. He could make her leave by angering her enough.

“I’m not telling you more than you already know.” Especially now that he was going to be evicted from his home and would never see her again once that happened. 

“Are you going to die?”

“No.” _At least not right now._

“Is it contagious?” 

“Not really," he admitted, although how could he know for sure?

***

Although Jonathan could be irritating and even right now was really pissing her off with his standoffish and secretive behavior, she’d been thinking about him all night, wanting to see him after two days of staying away and focusing on her work. 

_ Why was it so hard for him to trust her? So far her best theory was that he’d been abused as a child, most likely by his father, but what about the medical condition he’d mentioned a few times? Where did it fit in all this? _

He was glaring at her, still clearly wishing she’d leave. _Dream on. _He was sick and in need of attention, the gaze of his feverish brown eyes firmly fixed on her face. 

"I'm moving out," he croaked.

"What?"

"Found another place," he claimed with a shrug, making her doubt it was true. 

If he left the apartment, then technically she had no reason to see him anymore. 

"When are you leaving?" She asked.

"Next week."

_Why hadn't he told her this before? _Her anger with him and sadness over the turn of events mixed in with all the other feelings she harbored for him, stupid hot tears spilling out her eyes. _To hell with it all._

He gasped at the first touch of their lips, but then responded. Within seconds Nancy found herself pressed up against the door by his lanky body, his fingers still wrapped around her wrist, but the touch now gentle. 

The spell was broken by a door slamming shut somewhere below them. Jonathan backed away from her as if she were a dangerous animal on the run from the nearest zoo, his eyes wide and terrified.

“You have to go,” he said, shaking his head. 

“Fine.” Whatever it was that was keeping Jonathan from opening up to her seemed to be too strong for him to overcome, and she deserved better than that. Although tears of anger kept streaming down her face as she descended to the street level, she was determined not to return to him, not that she would soon have a way of hunting him down anymore, either. If he wanted her, he would have to make the effort this time. She’d put her heart on the line and kissed him, only to be rejected for God knew which ridiculous excuse. And if he didn’t want her, he should be man enough to tell her that. Either way, getting her heart involved in an investigation had been a terrible idea that she wouldn’t repeat.

  
  



End file.
